For the Love of Bellatrix: Tabula Rasa
by White Eyebrow
Summary: No one is born evil, are they? - Episode six of The D.A. Chronicles - part 3 of 4. WARNING: adult situations.
1. (Almost) Ten Years Later

.

(Almost) Ten Years Later

* * *

Dean Thomas yawned as he removed the kettle from the heat. He poured the hot tea into two waiting teacups. The newly delivered copy of _The Daily Prophet_ lay unfurled on the worktop, enabling him to glean the day's headline:

_Hogsmeade Celebrates Ten Year Anniversary of The Battle of Hogwarts_

Saucers in hand, he brought the cups to the sitting room where his guest, Luna Lovegood waited.

"Thank you, Dean," she said, accepting the proffered drink, all the while keeping her attention focused on the drawings lain across the coffee table. "These illustrations are amazing. They'll make a great addition to my book."

He took his seat. "It was easy; your descriptions were meticulous. Although, taking a picture would've been easier."

"A camera can't 'see' Blimmers. That's why it's been so hard to prove their existence." She took her fist sip, followed by an approving nod. "Besides, it gives me a reason to visit you."

Dean snorted.

"You've been busy," she said as she now regarded the many paintings, crafted by his hand, that adorned the walls. "It feels like we're having tea inside a gallery…. You should sell these."

"One day I may work up the nerve, perhaps when I run out of wall space."

Luna's focus was then drawn to a large book that rested on the corner of the table. It was weathered and held together with twine as a result of it being overstuffed with an assortment of loose pages. She opened it and began to peruse the sketches within. "And what of these?"

"There's nothing special in there," he said. "They're private."

That did not stop her from satisfying her curiosity. "What's so un-special about them?"

"They're my... _meditations."_ He brought the cup to his lips and blew on the hot liquid. "And you're just going to keep flipping through them, I see..."

"Ex-girlfriend privilege," she said plainly. It did not take her long to raise an eyebrow. "Why are the subjects of all your 'meditations' women?"

He shrugged. "It was just something I fell into."

She smiled at a sketch of her from years ago walking along a beach. "I remember doing this at Shell Cottage… You were watching me?"

"I was always watching." He smiled. "It's still one of my favourites."

Luna blushed, and she turned the page. The next drawing made her frown. "Pansy Parkinson?"

"Don't ask—and it's not what you think."

She turned the page. Her frown persisted. "Pavarti and Padma… at the same time?"

"This is why I didn't want you flipping through it."

She turned the page. "I don't recognize her… What house was she in?"

He regarded the subject. "She's not from Hogwarts. She's a muggle."

"She's pretty." Her big blue eyes blinked in his direction. "Another blonde with blue eyes… do I detect a theme?"

"Nonsense. If you had rainbow-coloured hair, I still would've fancied you."

Luna's eyes widened at his sudden inspiration. _"Oooo!"_

Dean grinned. "So, are you jealous yet?"

"I don't know what you mean," Luna said in her default aloof demeanour. "Especially when most of the drawings so far are of me, by a substantial margin." She smirked. "That means _you_ think that I'm the prettiest."

Dean snorted. _Same old Luna..._

She turned to the last page. This one made her pause. "The eyes… they're spot on." She illustratively held up the drawing of Bellatrix Lestrange, showing her head rested on a pillow with an expression of dreamy contentment. "You never did talk about what she did to you."

"She hurt me"—he shrugged—"there's nothing more to say on the matter."

"But, there _is,_ Dean. It's kept you from moving forward." She reached out and took his hand. "It kept _us_ from moving forward."

"I regret that." He kissed her hand.

"I feel like I've abandoned you."

He shook his head. "No, you were great. You kept me sane at an insane time."

"I miss you."

"I miss you too."

Luna sighed. "I better stop… before I see someone in here that I can't unsee." She closed the picture book and let it rest in her lap.

"They we're all platonic. Cross my heart."

"_We_ weren't platonic, Dean."

He amended himself, saying, "Except for us" while keeping his eyes averted.

Luna regarded him with a sideways glance. "If you say so." And she returned the book to its spot on the coffee table. "I have to go; I'm having brunch with Rolf."

He paused from taking another sip. "Again?"

"Yes. He asked for a follow-up interview about my book."

"Somehow, I doubt his intentions."

Luna smiled. "Feel free to tag along… if you're jealous." She rose from the couch and collected her new Blimmer portfolio.

Dean joined her. "Hardly. I just want you to be careful, that's all." And he escorted her to the door.

She took his proffered arm. "I track category five Wizard killers for a living, Dean. I think I can handle Rolf—unless you care to supply me with another reason why I shouldn't go?"

Made uncomfortable, Dean cleared his throat. "No. Your book needs the exposure. Besides, I'm meeting with Seamus and Neville at Diagon Alley before the parade." He grinned. "Maybe I'll see you there?"

Luna nodded. "Give Neville and Seamus my best, would you?" Saying her goodbyes, she kissed Dean on the cheek and left.

Dean closed the door behind her and returned to the picture book. He opened it to revisit the effigy of Bellatrix, regarding her haunting gaze, a reminder of his promise—or, rather, her curse—to never forget her. He frowned and put the book away.

Inspired randomly upon further introspection, he made haste to the threshold, opened the door and peeked into the hallway outside. Hopefully, she wasn't out of earshot yet:

"Luna! Do _not_ rainbow your hair...! I mean it!"


	2. Slumming

.

Slumming

* * *

A ray of sunlight, peeking through the curtains, made Neville Longbottom squint and brought him out of his slumber.

Neville swung his legs over the edge of the bed and sat up. The joints in his shoulders popped as he stretched the sleep out of his tired muscles. He reached for the elixir on the night stand, fumbling over his wand, and emptied the small container. His neck itched.

He rose from the mattress and walked over to the mirror. Craning his neck, he examined the fresh pair of puncture wounds in his skin. The mirror's reflection of the creaking bedsprings provided a convenient vantage point from which to regard his bed-mate, newly stirred by his movements. Her snow-white hair and pigmentless skin were easy to make out in the dim light.

The albino slid out from under the bed sheet, unconcerned over her state of undress, and crawled toward him. She spoke in whispers. "Your blood _taste'ssso_ good, M'lud; I think that's why you're my favourite. _Shhhall_ we have another go?"

Neville had since cleaned the wound on his neck. "I think you've taken the agreed upon allotment of blood, and then some, Esmerelda. Besides, the sun is already out, and I wouldn't want you go up in smoke."

"You read too many fairy tales, M'lud." Esmerelda floated from the bed and settled behind him. Her clammy hands glided across his chest. "I feel _ssso_ energized… I could eat you."

"So much for metaphor."

Her blood-red lips kissed the spot on his neck where his artery visibly pulsed. "How about another _teassspoon_ in trade?" Her extended canines grazed his skin. "If M'lud will recall, blood is not the only thing I can _sssuck."_

He rebuked her—"Stay your fangs, undead tart"—and she hissed with a scowl. This made him grin. "Hit a nerve, did I?"

In answer, her albino features blurred momentarily and then reformed into the visage of his wife Hannah Longbottom. She even sounded like her:

"At least I don't live in the past, _Nevy."_ She yelped when Neville's hand clasped brusquely around her throat.

He wasn't gentle. "Stay your forked tongue as well..." Though it was an illusion, the sight of Hannah made Neville avert his eyes. "Are you quite done with the theatrics?"

She did not need to breathe, but she did need to speak, so he relaxed his grip, and she giggled. "Hit a nerve, did I?"

Sighing, Neville released her and started to gather his things.

Esmerelda became as mist. Once the human was surrounded, she reverted to her physical form, and she embraced him. "Forgive me, M'lud, but you know I don't like it when you call me 'undead.'" Her lips pouted. "Don't be _crossss."_

"I'm sorry too." Neville kissed her forehead. "The upcoming celebrations… It brings back memories that aren't all positive."

"I wished you'd look at me the way you look at _her." _She instinctively reformed back to Hannah, but retained her natural voice. "Don't leave in _sssuch_ a _ssstate;_ come back to bed—just for a minute—you can choke me out again." Using Hannah's naughty smile she lowered to her knees, her long nails hooked behind the waistband of his pants.

"Tempting, but I have an appointment with old friends." He magically levitated her onto her feet and smiled at Hannah's pretty face. "Some other time?"

She wrapped her arms around his neck. "Fine… _Shhhall_ we _shhhare_ a bath, then?"

"Let's." He kissed her. "I'll get the holy water."

_"Bassstard."_

—oOo—

In better spirits, Neville descended the stairs leading to the ground level of The Leaky Cauldron. The noisy dining area was busy and full of patrons. He strode by the front desk and was greeted by the Manager.

"Good mornin', Guv'nor."

Neville nodded. "Pip."

"'Ad I known you were stayin' the night, I would've 'ad the chef whip you up some breakfast."

"No need to go through any extraordinary effort on my behalf." He checked his pocket watch. "Looks like business is good today?"

"All the extra rooms are booked to the end of the month. It's a good thing we anticipated the extra traffic due to the celebrations surrounding the tenth anniversary of the defeat of 'E-Who-Should-Not-Be-Named—"

"His name was _Tom Riddle_, Pip."

"Right. Sorry, sir… old 'abits, you know. Anyway, we'll be making a tidy profit by the end of it all."

"Excellent, Pip. Use the extra funds to hire an exterminator. I fear the increased patronage may bring about a Chizpurfle infestation."

"Will do," Pip said. "You 'ave a splendid day, Mister Longbottom, sir."

_Splendid…_ Neville snorted at the word. He made his way to the dining area and saw his friends and former co-workers, Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnegan, seated by the threshold. He joined them, and they greeted each other without ceremony.

Seamus was the first to lift his Butterbeer in toast. "Hard to believe it's been ten years, mates."

Their glasses clinked all around.

Dean took his first sip. "Who would'a thought we'd end up being Aurors?"

"It's no more unlikely than the idea of me being a Herbology Professor," Neville added. His neck still itched.

Neville's involuntary scratching led Seamus to notice the bandage on his neck. "Are you still slumming it with that vampire? You're going to catch something that a wand can't fix if you're not careful."

Dean eyed his partner over the edge of the menu he was reading. "That's none of our business, Seamus."

"What? It's been over a year already; I'm not gonna keep walking on eggshells on account of this git."

Neville interrupted before Dean could retort. "It's alright, Dean. Seamus is just being his usual self. I almost miss it… almost."

"Don't get me wrong," Seamus said. "You both know I adored Hannah. But, don't you think she would want you to get on with your life?" (1)

"Thank you, Seamus, but I regard my work as a professor, inspiring the future minds of wizardkind, very fulfilling."

"All's I'm saying is, I think Hannah would want you to be happy."

"I am. Dumbledore did just fine by himself, as I recall."

"And if we make it to a hundred and fifty, I'll cede your point," Seamus said. "Until then, we're in the prime of our lives, gents. And given our roles in the event that inspired these upcoming festivities, we should be waist deep in women—especially Neville with him being a pure-blood and all."

Neville shook his head. "Bloody… He just keeps going on, doesn't he?"

Dean, amused by the entire back-and-forth, merely grinned in reply. "Don't look at me, Professor Longbottom. He's your fault."

"How is this tosser's palaverings my fault—?"

"Er, the 'tosser' is still here."

"When you resigned as an Auror, Neville, there was no longer a foil to keep Seamus in check."

"I assumed you would take on that responsibility, Dean. You are his best mate, after all."

"Seamus is a two-man job!"

Seamus pursed his lips, his face buried in the menu. "Yep… I'm still here.…"

The bell at the entrance chimed, and Dean's attention was drawn to the ingress of a woman with dark flowing hair offset by her fair skin. Though dressed modestly in relation to everyone else, what made her stand out was the manner in which she carried herself—like a lady of exceptional breeding.

As she passed, Dean rose from his chair, greeting her. "Good day, Miss Tonks."

"Good day, Dean." Andromeda smiled. "Are you still coming to Teddy's birthday party?"

"I wouldn't miss it."

She nodded. "See you then." And she left.

Seamus returned to perusing his menu. "I'm confused... should we have stood up also?"

Neville shrugged. "I thought no, because feminism, and all."

Dean rolled his eyes.

The exchange between the men was lost on Andromeda as she had an appointment of her own to keep. Arriving at her destination, she stood at the table where sat two of the best dressed women in the place: her mother, Druella Black, and sister, Narcissa Malfoy, neither of whom had she spoken to in decades.

Narcissa involuntarily straightened in her chair. "Merlin, she actually showed up."

Druella Black regarded her middle child with widened eyes; her smile was genuine. _"Bonjour,_ Andy, thank you for coming."

Andromeda remained aloof, merely raising a single eyebrow in acknowledgement. "It was worth it, just to see you slumming at Diagon Alley, _M__aman."_

"The years have been kind to you." Druella waved her hand, and the chair next to Andromeda slid out for her.

"They have been kind to you as well, _M__aman."_ She took the seat at her mother's magical behest. "You should share your beauty secrets with Narcissa."

Narcissa snorted.

"Will you be attending today's parade?" Druella questioned.

"Yes, _Maman._ And you?"

"I'll be listening on the wireless. Sunlight ages the skin, after all."

Narcissa forced a saccharin smile. "I was just about to say, I love your tan, Andy."

Andromeda snorted, giving her sister a sideways glance. "Thank you, Cissy."

The 'pleasantries' were interrupted when a youth came running up to the table:

The boy greeted Andromeda, saying, "Wotcha, _Grandy!"_

Andromeda grabbed her grandson and drew him close so her voice wouldn't have to match his in the loud room. "Teddy, I told you to wait with Auntie Ginny."

Narcissa shared a confused look with Druella. "Who's _Grandy?"_

"Gran... Andy…," Andromeda replied lazily. "It sort of ran together."

Narcissa laughed loud enough to draw stares.

Teddy remembered his mission. "Auntie Ginny told me to ask you if I can have ice cream before the parade."

Andromeda rolled her eyes. "Yes, you may. But, only one scoop."

"Brilliant!" Teddy's hair magically turned the brightest shade of pink before settling on turquoise. He kissed his grandmother on the cheek. "Cheers, Grandy!"

"Aren't you going to introduce us, _Grandy?" _Narcissa teased_._

Andromeda ignored her. "Off you go, Teddy. I'll catch up with you and Auntie Ginny later."

Teddy obeyed, but as he turned, he tripped over his feet and fell on the coarse wooden floor. The display was enough to give the surrounding patrons in the immediate area pause, and Teddy sat up, nursing his bloodied knee.

Andromeda was already at his side even as Teddy's eyes started to well. Her gentle voice calmed him. "Oh, my, let's have a look at you, dearie..." She waved her wand, and under a blue glow, the scrape was cleaned. "There. It's not so bad." The glow yellowed, and the skin around the wound began to magically knit together. In seconds, the pain was rendered a memory. The surrounding patrons returned to their disparate concerns. "I've had a lot of practice doing this for your mother, you know."

It wasn't until she applied the best medicine—a grandmother's kiss—that finally made Teddy smile. However, it soon disappeared as Teddy regarded the elder Druella approach them, sporting a stern look.

Her arms folded akimbo, Druella spoke in a low and measured voice as she towered over them. "Do you know _why_ you stumble, boy?"

Teddy blinked. "No, ma'am."

"It is because of your hair." She illustratively twirled a lock of her own—careful not to give herself away. "Unchecked transformation of the hair can lead to little changes to the bones of your inner ear, thus throwing your balance off. Learn to control your hair, and you won't be so clumsy." (2)

Andromeda rose, regarding her mother with a glower. "You overstep." Her tone was quiet—so as not to cause a scene—but no less severe.

Druella averted her eyes. "I apologize."

The tension underwriting the exchange was lost on Teddy who had suddenly become curious with the statuesque elder lady with piercing grey eyes. "It's nice to meet you ma'am. My name is Edward Lupin."

"Hello, Edward Lupin. I am Druella Black."

Teddy's gaze alternated between the two women with curiosity. "You're pretty… you look like Grandy."

Druella smiled for the first time. "Aren't you the charmer."

"Teddy, don't keep Auntie Ginny waiting any longer," Andromeda said.

Teddy obeyed. "Goodbye, Madam Black."

"_Au revoir,"_ Druella said, and in answer to the youngster's perplexed expression, followed it with, "That is French; it means 'goodbye.'"

Teddy snorted. "Ah ray-vorah." And he left.

Druella's smile faded after the youth's egress. _"Pourquoi Teddy ne parle-t-il pas français, Andy?"_

Andromeda straightened, her hands on her hips. _"Et pourquoi tu t'en soucies, __M__aman?"_

The women returned to their seats. Narcissa sighed as she checked her pocket watch. "Ladies, as much as this family reunion touches my heart, I do not have an enormous amount of time."

"Agreed," Andromeda said.

"I'll come to the point, then." From under the table Druella drew her wand and cast the Muffliato Charm on the sly. "There is a matter of the gravest importance that I must attend to, and I request both of you to come with me. Now, I have not forgotten what happened between us, so know that I am not being flippant when I say that I would not be asking if the situation were not dire."

"Can you be more specific?" Narcissa asked.

"I'm afraid not—and that is more for your protection."

_"Protection?"_ Andromeda sighed. "I care not for your elitist concerns. Keep your secrets." She rose from her seat.

"I'll make it worth your while," Druella offered. "If not for yourself, think of Teddy." Although this gave her daughter pause, Druella sensed Andromeda's continued trepidation and added, "It concerns your _other_ sister."

Andromeda blinked. "My only 'concern' for my 'other' sister is that she burns in hell."

Druella's eyes saddened. "Please, don't say such things, Andy."

"I'll say what I please when it comes to her."

Narcissa sipped her tea. "I told you this would be a waste of time."

"Cissy, please," Druella scolded. "Andy, you have no reason to trust me, but if there was ever love between us as mother and daughter, I beg you to hear me out. If your answer is still no, then I shan't bother you ever again."

Andromeda's lips thinned in her contemplation. "What's so important that you dredge up ghosts?"

"Closure," Druella said plainly. "For all of us."

Narcissa's eyes narrowed. "What are you up to, _M__aman?"_

"Does it matter? I have piqued your interests, have I not?"

Narcissa shrugged.

Andromeda returned to her seat.

* * *

—oOo—

(1) See The Last Longbottom for deeper context (optional).

(2) I'm trying to turn the hair/clumsiness connection into a fannon thing. Feel free to use it and spread it around. Just know you read it here first (as far as I know.)


	3. Parade Ground

.

Parade Ground

* * *

It was a day like any other. The sun shone brilliantly, the birds sang their songs, and majestic Hogwarts overlooked the bustling village of Hogsmeade from high above its hillside perch.

Dean and Seamus walked down High Street, the main road that separated Hogsmeade. The oversized, billowy floats and special vehicles were queued up as the parade was about to start. Magic filled the air.

"It's already a big turnout," Seamus said, shielding his eyes from the bright sunlight. "Are we getting holiday pay for this?"

Dean shrugged. "It's not a holiday, and we're just here to back up the peacekeepers."

Seamus merely grunted. He reached into his pocket and retrieved his special slug. The slimy green gastropod squirmed in Seamus' palm as he waved his wand over it in an attempt to imbrue the creature with his magic. "Today's colour is orange, right?"

"Yes," Dean replied, looking on. "Why haven't you activated your slug earpiece yet?" (3)

"My slug has been acting—well—sluggish, for lack of a better term… I think she's sick, so I wanted to put it off of her for as long as possible." He touched the slug with his wand and frowned when nothing happened.

"All of our slugs are a he; we don't use hermaphrodites."

"Oh, why is that?" Seamus tried to charm the slug again to no avail. He cursed.

"You wouldn't want one of those things laying eggs in your ear canal, would you?"

"Fair point. Although, I thought they reproduced by... er… what is it called when you slice 'em in two, and each part becomes a new thing? Osmosis?"

"Devil if I know."

"I miss Neville: _you_ never know anything." Seamus cast the spell once more, and his repeated attempts finally bore fruit as his slug magically changed colour, from green to orange. Relieved, he placed the slug to his ear, and it happily slid inside. The auror then touched his temple.

Dean heard Seamus' voice echoing within, the slugline overriding his ear._ "Slugcheck, slugcheck, slugcheck… one, two, three… can you hear me?"_

It didn't take long for Hermione's reply. _"Yes, Seamus, so stop spamming the slugline, please."_

Seamus rolled his eyes, and he pinched his earlobe, deactivating his slug. "It's gonna be hell when she becomes the Minister of Magic… on that day I'm quitting."

Dean laughed.

The two friends said their goodbyes and went to their assigned locations.

—oOo—

It grew hotter as the sun rose higher.

The parade was well under way. Though Dean wasn't in a position to enjoy the festivities in earnest, the cheers from the crowd was enough of an endorsement of the grandeur and the spectacle that underwrote the Battle of Hogwarts Memorial Parade.

It seemed as if all of wizarding Britain was concentrated along the main thoroughfare. Dean had lost count of how many times he had circled the block.

The last round of fireworks seared the sky. Today was supposed to be peaceful, so when Dean heard what sounded like a scream, he convinced himself that it was from one of the fireworks whistling through the air. However, as the screams became more numerous, he investigated.

The procession had halted. A crowd was gathered beside the float of Albus Dumbledore. By the time Dean pushed through, Hermione's voice boomed in his head over the slugline:

"_Medical emergency on the corner of High Street and Flitterboom Road!"_

At the crowd's perimeter Dean was met by two MLE officers; they allowed him to pass. He saw a small group crouched around someone unseen from his vantage point. However, what garnered his attention in the moment was when he saw Luna Lovegood and Teddy holding hands as they looked on from the edge of the pavement. Luna's face and blouse were stained red.

Dean ran to her. "Luna! You're hurt!" With concern in his eyes, he grabbed her and started searching for the source of the blood on her person.

"I'm alright, Dean." She gently placed her hands on the sides of his face, and he stilled upon meeting her eyes. "It's not mine."

Dean struggled to concentrate amidst the increasing reports that started to come in over the slugline. One stuck out in particular:

_"Peacekeepers, be advised that I'm about to approach a person of interest: a male approximately six feet tall wearing dark robes..."_

Back in the moment, Dean regarded the small group behind him. From this new vantage point he saw Molly Weasley in distress, seated on a stool with her blood-stained back exposed. Her husband, Arthur Weasley, and three of her children supported her while Andromeda tended to Molly's injuries.

He recognized the medical bag at Andromeda's feet. "Is that Seamus' field kit?"

Though her attention was focused on stitching the open wound on Molly's back, Andromeda managed to nod in reply, saying, "This wasn't an accident."

Dean touched his temple, nearly overwhelmed by the continuing cacophony of voices pouring in over the slugline:

_"We need backup! The assailant is feeling the scene, going west on Pendle Road!"_

_"Valkyrie squadron, provide air support for the wands on the ground!"_

_"He's heading for the railway station! We need more wands to form a perimeter!"_

Dean shrugged it off. "I have to go." And he started in the direction of the railway, but Luna stopped him.

"Honey, wait!" Luna held his arm fast. "I saw Seamus go that way!" She pointed to the east.

_"We have eyes on the assailant going toward the railway… Proceed_ west _on High Street to intercept!"_

He looked in the opposite direction, toward the west, presumably where all the action was according to the slugline. However, he knew better than to disregard Luna, so he ran east on High Street. Hermione's voice boomed in his head:

"_There's too much chatter on this channel! All Aurors on this slugline, we will coordinate on the backup colour now!"_

_Blue…._ Dean knew the colour, but he ignored the order because he remembered Seamus, so instead he reached out to his best mate:

"Seamus, where are you?"

"_I got eyes!__"_ Seamus replied over the orange slugline. _"He's making a run for the threshold of the Anti-Apparation jinx __i__n the __turn-off before the slums__."_

"Are you sure? Hermione is directing everyone toward the train station on the other side of the village!"

"_I'm about to engage!"_

"Do not engage without backup!" Dean ran faster. "I'm almost there!"

"_If I wait, he'll fly!"_

"Seamus…!" There was no response. Winded, Dean came upon the juncture leading to the slums, and he retrieved his invisibility cloak. He peeked around the corner, looking into the narrow cobblestoned alleyway buffered by two large buildings. He was distracted when a small dog, sniffing around his ankles, started to bark at him.

Using his foot he shoved the animal aside. "Scram, mutt."

His walnut wand, with its curved shaft, in hand, Dean stepped into the shadowed alleyway. The requisite drop in temperature was welcomed as it had grown hot under his invisibility cloak. He saw Seamus slumped against a wall at the end, his breathing was shallow and laboured as a knife was impaled in the right side of his chest.

Dean frowned as he approached, but he did not dare offer aid, for his miniature Sneakoscope rattled angrily inside his pocket:

_Somebody is here..._

The dog came upon the scene. He sniffed the ground with curiosity, tracking something unseen. Dean cursed as the dog moved toward him, but the animal stilled unexpectedly. It followed its nose and bumped into something solid... but likewise invisible.

_Shit!_ Dean threw off his cloak—his Disarming Spell primed—just as he detected a deadly flash of green out of the corner of his eye:

"_Expelliarmus!"_

"_Avada Kedavra!"_

Their magic clashed. Dean stood firm, using the unorthodox grip of his special wand, he was able to engage while standing slightly askew from the enemy's line of attack. At a stalemate, the duel ran its course.

As the duel's wand-flash faded, Dean was finally able to regard his enemy: a tall figure of a man, wearing robes as black as night. The face of this nemesis was obscured behind a mask of smoke; green embers "dripped" from the tip of his wand.

Time was on neither opponents' side: Dean needed to get Seamus to a healer, and the Dark wizard's window of escape was narrowing by the second.

Dean grinned, keeping his wand at the ready. "You're under arrest." He knew it wouldn't be that easy.

The Dark wizard feinted to the left, and Dean's Disarming Spell missed. The faceless one brought his wand to bear, and a swarm of wasps assailed the Auror.

On instinct, Dean sliced the air vertically with his wand, invoking, "_Diffindo!" _and the horde was twained, rendering the wasps wingless as they littered the ground.

"_Accio Dagger!"_

The knife magically withdrew from Seamus' chest and flew through the air, caught deftly by the Dark wizard, and when the swarm waned, he rushed Dean, dagger in hand.

Dean ducked the first swipe and hopped back to avoid the second; the blade's edge grazed his dragonskin vest.

The many bugs crunched under the weight of the combatants' feet.

The Dark wizard pressed on, and with a lunge, he kicked Dean in the chest. Dean rolled backwards and recovered on his feet just as his masked assailant made a stab for his exposed belly.

Dean twirled his wand expertly, reversing his grip and consequently using its curved shaft to hook his enemy's wrist in order to safely parry the blade—whipping it, along with his attacker's arm, aside. His enemy's flank exposed thus, he spun easily on the pavement made slick with bug guts, coming around to thrust his heel in his attacker's ribs.

The Dark wizard winced in pain.

That was the opening Dean needed. _"Petrificus Totalus!"_

The curse was blocked, barely, but it managed to clip its target on the leg. The enemy levelled his wand in reply, and a red arc of destructive magic ejected from its tip.

Dean easily sidestepped the attack, but he realized too late that it was not meant for him. The wall that Seamus was propped up against, absorbed the spell only momentarily before cracks were made manifest at the point of impact.

The Dark wizard started to hop away on one leg, but Dean was forced to abandon him as he moved to save his friend. He had Seamus secured, the wall started to teeter, when he noticed the dog, helpless amongst the random falling bricks.

He aimed his wand—_"__Accio puppy!"_—just as the wall gave way.

"_Protego Totalum!"_

* * *

—oOo—

(3) The slugline was first introduced in Prisoner of Hope chapter 20


End file.
